


Close to My Fire

by holdingtorches



Category: British Actor RPF
Genre: Dancing, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-02
Updated: 2020-07-02
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:00:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25028113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/holdingtorches/pseuds/holdingtorches
Summary: You locked eyes from across the room, and sparks burst between you. But how willing was he to dance with fire? Title is from the song "Close to My Fire" by Joe Bonamassa and Beth Hart.
Relationships: George MacKay/Reader
Comments: 1
Kudos: 8





	Close to My Fire

**Author's Note:**

> Based on George's answer regarding his dream date, from [this](https://www.vanityfair.com/hollywood/2020/03/george-mackay-is-britains-new-leading-man-in-demand) interview.

You looked up from your drink, watching the couples on the dance floor. The room was dark, but you could make out the silhouettes of their dancing figures as the lights onstage hit their bodies. You started to ask yourself why you were even in that blues club in the first place. You haven’t danced in ages, and it was highly unlikely that you would any time soon. Practicing blues dance, in theory, seems like a viable option to the unfamiliar mind, but in actuality it was impossible to dance blues without another person. It took an incredible amount of trust to dance blues with someone, trust borne out of speaking the same non-verbal language with your partner. And ever since your ex, you never really danced the way you used to.

For a moment, you frowned inwardly, chastising yourself for even remembering that cheating, no-good bastard. After you caught him in _your bed_ with another, he lost the right to even live in your memory. It was over a year ago now, but sometimes you remembered him, especially when you returned to this place. You sauntered on to the other end of the bar, still nursing your drink as you settled your gaze on the dance floor. _That was where he first asked me to dance_ , you recalled as you glanced at that corner by the stage in front of the double bassist. _That was where we recreated the choreography of ‘Genghis Khan’ for Other Genres Night,_ you remembered as you watched the couple dancing near the tables—

Suddenly you felt it, somehow somewhere across the room, you felt a pair of eyes gaze at you from across the room. You felt the hairs stand up at the back of your neck; it felt like you were prey and the hunter was closing in. Your own eyes a little bit wider now, you scanned the room trying to find who dared to stare at you. 

And suddenly you found those blue eyes.

Blue eyes that stared at you from the dark side of the room. Blue eyes that belonged to a tall man who stood with people who seemed to be his friends, but wasn’t talking to them because his blue eyes were too busy staring at you. Blue eyes that were the colour of summer skies without a single cloud in them. Blue eyes much wider than you own, seemingly tender and yet with a glint of wildness that showed when the light illuminated them. Blue eyes that said ‘Oh yes, I would pin you down, darling, or die trying.’

You smirked. ‘You can die then,’ you hoped to say, cocking an eyebrow in his direction. For a moment, you thought you had turned the tables. You looked away for a second, only to find that he had vanished without a trace from where he last stood. You looked around again, more quickly this time, scanning the room as you tried to find where he went off. Was the hunter on the move again, to find a better way to get to you? Or did he abandon the lead he had with you to chase another, more willing catch?

All of a sudden, he appeared in front of you, causing your soul to almost leave your body from shock. His blue eyes were more captivating in close range than they were from afar; it was as if his soul rippled through them, like when the West Wind moves amongst the waves. He flashed you a devilish grin, and held a hand out to you.

“May I?” he asked. Your eyes widened again; somehow, something about him awakened a courage inside you that was sleeping for so long. You smiled back at him as you placed your hand in his large ones. He made a deft movement, and suddenly your arm was in the crook of his, in escort position. As he led you to the middle of the dancefloor —the only space left on it— he kept his gaze on you and smiled with so much… tenderness. Was it tenderness? For a moment, you refused to believe that it was; you thought it was a snare he set out to seize you further.

Yet when you reached the middle, you realised that the tenderness was a but a thin veil to temper his boldness. Oh he was tender and he was courteous, yes, but beyond that was a vivacity that couldn’t stay concealed. You watched him give a signal to the female singer of the band, and a slow, sultry beat began to play. You smiled as you recognised this song; it was ‘Close to My Fire’, arguably one of your favourite blues songs, but never one you’ve danced to. The amalgam of everything before you —him, the way the light hit him, the music, and your sudden recognition of how honest he was being— petrified you in place. There was no way you could run back now.

So you took the leap of faith and decided to trust in him.

You started slow first, palm to palm as you both gauged the beat. _‘Didn’t Shakespeare say something about being palm to palm?_ ’ you asked yourself just before his free hand found the small of your back. As your hips began to sway back and forth, you felt a surge rip through your being, stronger than lightning and hotter than fire. It was like nothing you had ever experienced before, an arresting moment of blazing clarity that allowed you to see the world through his eyes and feel everything through his own senses. 

You found a connection with him.

This connection was one that had transcended any other connection you had previously known. You glided away from him, only to be twirled and pulled closer to lean against his slender but strong torso. As he embraced you close for a fleeting count, the depth of what you saw to be this connection with him took your breath away. Despite never having met him before, everything felt so intimate, as if you had known each other for a lifetime already. The reasons utterly eluded and escaped you, yet every step he led you to felt so familiar and so… right, like it was something ordained by Fate itself. The way you danced with this man was unlike any other way you’ve danced before. With previous partners —and even your ex— it felt more like a dictatorship; your partner led, and you were forced to follow. Indeed, they were hooked on the antiquated notions of most social dancing conventions: that the man leads, and the woman follows. You rolled with the pulses they gave you but still yearned for something less rigid and more true to who you were as a person. 

With this man, however, everything felt less like a blind obedience, instead feeling more… engaging. As his hips swayed in time with yours, everything just felt right. How your bodies belonged together in that dance was something that you couldn’t begin to even reduce into words. Every step you took with him, every turn you made in his arms, every movement you two danced together felt more like a conversation than a dictation. This one dared enough to play with your fire, and it paid off well for the both of you. 

Oh, and how glorious it was, those moments when he’d pass you the lead! He didn’t just give you the freedom to switch up the power play in your partnering; he also liberated you from the stagnant definition of what a dancing partner was supposed to be. He didn’t just let your soul fly again, he let it _soar_. Right there and then, he gave you the perfect chance to be unashamedly honest, to be and remain true to yourself. This— this, at last!— was everything you were looking for in a dancing partner. Indeed, everything you’ve had before this man was like ice: stiff, yet fragile and incredibly cold. But this man and the way he danced with you was pure, warm liquid that enveloped all around you and seeped into your skin, your bones, and, if you were honest with yourself, your very soul.

As you felt his hand drift to your hip, you made a _taqsim_ into his hand. A bit off-genre, you knew, but the effect it had on him was absolutely delectable. His eyes widened at you, shocked that you went there but eager to accept nevertheless. Not wanting to lose the lead you took from him, you let him twirl away from you. You drew him back into your arms for a moment before you dipped him. It was something you’ve always wanted to do to a partner, but your previous partners were too keen to conform to the ancient idea that only men can dip their partners, and they never let you try.

You peered at him for a second, wondering if maybe you had crossed a boundary for him. But he was smiling wide as he rose back up and continued gliding with you; oh, he absolutely _loved_ what you did. His blue eyes were glimmering with ecstasy with what you just did, still not quite over how thrilling it was for him. As he let you spin away, you knew what he wanted to do, and you knew you _had_ to let him. As the singer crooned the last note of the song, he bent his knee to dip you, far lower than you dipped him, so low that your head was nearly touching the floor.

You laughed as you looked up at the ceiling, both exhilarated and unbelieving as to how he was able to support you. As you stayed there with your back arched for a while, you started to ground your senses again to his arm still wrapped around your waist, with his free hand supporting your upper back, just between your shoulder blades. You exhaled a bit, before laughing from the sheer ecstasy that coursed through you. He laughed as well, barely believing that you both pulled off that number.

A deafening round of applause went up in the room as he helped you get up. Looking around the room, you noticed that, at some point, the other dancers who were on the floor cleared it to let just the two of you dance. You felt the heat rise up to your cheeks, suddenly embarrassed that you stole other people’s thunder that way. Caught off guard, you found each other’s hand at the small of the other’s back, and you both bowed as the clapping and the cheering refused to subside.

You looked at each other for the briefest of moments, and you immediately both understood that you had to go out with a bang. As the band started to play the trombone intro of Leonard Cohen’s “Memories”, you took him by the hand and bounced on your heels, walking backwards as you still faced him. He beamed at you, closing the arms-length gap between you. You locked your legs around his right one, and you threw your head back as he spun around and swept you —quite literally— off of your feet. When your feet touched the floor again, he was the one pulsing backwards now, leading you to the side of the room.

“That was amazing! _You_ were amazing,” the man said, quickly correcting himself. You were both standing by the bar now, with free drinks courtesy of the management because even they loved the performance you just pulled off. You raised your eyebrows at him; it takes two to dance the blues, and this man gave himself way less credit than he deserved. It dawned on you, then, that you both were standing at the exact same place where it all began, and yet you knew for sure that you weren’t the same woman you were when he first approached you. You felt so much more _free_ now, as if you were just unshackled from your chains after years of neglect. All of a sudden you didn’t feel so alone in this crowded room now, and only because of him and the experience you shared with him. As you watched him catch his breath and as the pink rose beneath the surface of his cheeks, you knew you had to be careful with him; one wrong move and you were going to fall face first in love with the man.

Remembering your manners, you told him your name, smiling softly as you introduced yourself. Extending a hand out in introduction, you almost let out an amused chuckle. After that moment you've just been through, a handshake? You had to stop yourself from laughing at the thought. "You are?"

He cupped your proffered hand in his much larger ones and kissed the back of it, a delicious warmth flaring up underneath the skin there, before spreading like wildfire through the rest of your body.

"I'm yours."


End file.
